Not Bad at All
by No1Bookworm
Summary: Honestly, things could've been worse. But detention with a very interesting, very good-looking guy was not bad. Looking back at Bellamy, who smirked at her knowingly, she thought, not bad at all.


Hi! Just a quick update, I've been so busy these past weeks with moving and studies so I haven't been able to post as frequently as I'd like to.. Hopefully I'll be able to post the next chapter for Peekaboo next week. Hopefully. Anyways, Clarke is just tad bit OOC but eh, here ya go!

* * *

Clarke stumbled through the hallways, smelling like smoke and looking like shit.

Oh how she _despised_ chemistry.

It was the stereotype test-tube-exploded-in-my-face scenario and she felt absolutely stupid as she trudged towards her locker, grumbling all the way. She switched her chemistry books for her literature, and felt her mood worsen.

She didn't quite like literature either.

 _Stupid chemicals, stupid teacher, stupid school, stupid-_

A slam from her left jolted from her internal rant.

"Well, looks like someone had fun." Oh she was _so not_ in the mood for this.

"Shut up Reyes." Said person merely rolled her eyes, already used to her snarky attitude.

"Geez, calm down Griffin. Just teasing." Clarke scoffed.

"Since when are you not?" Raven merely shrugged, "Valid point."

Raven leaned closer to her, and practically gagged at the stench.

"Yikes. No wonder you're extra grouchy. Need deo spray?" Clarke all but grabbed the little bottle of miracle (hey, she was desperate) and showered herself with the lovely scent of..wait a minute..was that, citrus?

Clarke immediately fixed a glare on her friend, who was innocently humming and fixing her always-perfect pony tail.

"Ugh, Raven you know I hate citrus scents!"

"Hey, I figured you'd prefer oranges to chimney so quit complaining."

"I hate you." She shoved the offensive spray back into Raven's locker, slammed it close, and made a show of slinging her bag over her shoulder.

"Love you too." Clarke didn't even have to look behind her to know she was smirking and dammit it was not helping the situation. And so, with a loud huff, she walked away, and headed towards her next class. At least, where she thought her next class was.

"You're not gonna tell her she's going the wrong way are you?"

Monty, who had been silently watching, asked, already dreading the answer.

"Nope."

"She's gonna hate you." Raven snorted at that, and turned to the opposite direction. "Just think of it as payback for when she locked me and Wick in the lab."

He shook his head, but followed her to where their class really was.

"At least you enjoyed it."

"Who says she won't?"

* * *

Clarke stormed into the classroom, and picked the corner seat at the back. She wanted, _needed,_ as little interaction with people possible.

Time ticked on and other students started trickling in. And not one of them didn't look at her apprehensively before settling into their seats. For a moment she considered that maybe something was off, but she was too pissed off to care and quickly dismissed the thought.

 _They're probably just scared of me. Yeah that's right, I'm Clarke Griffin. A force of nature. Stubbornness to be reckoned with._

Her little pep talk had revved her up and now she was ready to immerse herself in the lesson.

However it would seem, the odds simply weren't in her favour today as someone had decided to choose the seat right next to her. Of all the seats in the back row he chose the one next to her.

Really?

Well, it's not like she can do anything about it. She suppressed a growl and tuned in to what the professor was saying.

"Today we're going to talk about Oppenheimer and the…"

 _Oppenheimer?_

Clarke could've sworn the guy was the inventor of the atomic bomb. Maybe they were going discuss the poetry inspired by him? Shrugging, she opened her notes anyway.

* * *

The lesson had reached it's halfway mark and still hadn't had any mention of any literary work whatsoever. No prose, poems, biographies, nothing. Just a lot of dates, events, people… Wait a minute, she couldn't possibly be…

She took a deep breath. _Calm down Clarke, you're probably just over-reacting._

As smoothly as she could, she turned towards the guy beside her.

Just as she was thinking maybe he wasn't completely useless after all, she caught sight of his face.

His gloriously chiseled, finely sculpted, Greek god-like face.

 _You sir, are one fine piece of art._

Mortified, she held back the urge of punching herself in the gut. She did not just think that.

Shaking her head, she tried again.

"Psst." The guy gave no response, seemingly caught up in the lesson.

Clarke refused to give up, and tried harder.

" _Pssst_. _"_

Still nothing.

Seriously? Was this guy deaf or something? She was this close to crying out in frustration when she saw his foot just within reach of her own.

 _Yes!_

Ever so gently, she nudged him. The guy shook his head slightly, as if waking from a trance, and looked down.

His eyebrows rose up to his hairline as he caught sight of her foot. And then glanced at her. But for the life of her she couldn't understand how some stranger had her flushing like a girl under his wary, but curious stare. She was an independent, grown woman dammit.

But as soon as he opened his mouth, and actually talked to her, she knew that she was royally screwed.

"Can I help you?"

His voice was simply heavenly. It was soft and gravelly and it was _doing things to her_.

Unable to form a single coherent thought all she could manage was, "U-Uhm.." The guy smirked, as if he got that kind of response all the time. Jerk.

She recovered quickly, and cleared her throat. "I just need to confirm something."

"That sounds like a good start to a pick up line, but the way your worrying your lip gets me thinking its not. Spill."

She wanted to worry _his_ lip. I mean punch. Yeah, she wanted to punch him. On the lip. Yep.

"This is english literature, right?" He seemed to choke back a laugh, but one more look at her earnest face had him quietly wheezing into the sleeves of his sweater.

Okay, if she was simmering before, she was downright boiling now. How dare he laugh at her? It was a simple question, that required a simple answer. Before she could speak up and find out what was so damn funny, he had seemingly calmed down.

At least, that was what she thought since he was actually breathing again.

"So, let me get this straight. You're asking if this is the english lit class?"

"Yes." He gave a low chuckle before answering.

"Sorry to disappoint princess, but this is history class."

She knew it. Clarke had her suspicions as soon as it started but she was too pissed off to think too much about it. However that didn't mean she felt less embarrassed and frustrated about it.

With a grumble, she banged her head on the table. It was soft enough so the lecturer couldn't hear it, but loud enough to hurt.

"Woah, don't beat yourself up about it."

Clarke only grunted, and proceeded to grind her head hard. This was the worst day ever. She had blown up her lab exam, literally, walked around smelling like fruit, and entered the wrong friggin' class.

With a flinch, she realised she must look so pathetic to the intimidatingly handsome guy beside her. But apparently he felt pretty bad for her, because he voiced out a suggestion.

"You could just politely excuse yourself."

"No way! This is embarrassing enough." The guy seemed to ponder about it for a moment.

"Well," Clarke looked at him, slightly intrigued by the interesting tone in his voice.

"There are other ways to get out of class. If you know what I mean." He added with a wink.

She could see where this was going. Clarke gave it a thought.

She barely knew this guy, didn't even know his name. But there was just something about him, although she couldn't quite put a finger on it. Despite suggesting something like that, something told her he wouldn't force he to do something she wasn't going to like. Something told her she could trust him.

 _Ah screw it._

"What do you have in mind?" He smiled, and moved closer.

* * *

Clarke was the perfect student. Straight As, perfect attendance, and no detention.

Until now at least.

Unbidden memories of what they did to get out of there resurfaced, and she turned red. Thinking back to it, he never did reply to her question.

All he did was slowly lean in towards her, making sure she had time to move away.

But she didn't.

And thus commenced the hottest make out session she ever had in her life. They didn't get too far because the lecturer had caught them barely a minute after they started but, damn, that guy had her positively burning up within seconds.

Bellamy, he had introduced himself just now, gleamed at her. It seemed he knew what she was thinking of, and enjoyed the inner turmoil he gave her. Clarke quickly turned away, but noticed she wasn't quite uncomfortable under his gaze now. Rather, she felt alluring, hot even. At least that was what his lusty voice and the tent in his pants told her.

Honestly, things could've been worse. But detention with a very interesting, very good-looking guy was not bad. Looking back at Bellamy, who smirked at her knowingly, she thought, _not bad at all._


End file.
